


Caffeine

by kowaiyoukai



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Birthday, Birthday Presents, Coffee, Domestic, Fluff, Future Fic, Headaches & Migraines, Insomnia, M/M, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-08
Updated: 2005-11-08
Packaged: 2017-10-30 14:36:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/332827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kowaiyoukai/pseuds/kowaiyoukai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Draco hate keeping secrets from each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caffeine

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the_eros_affair, second wave, cheque #5- Harry to Draco: I promise not to have a headache tonight. This just kept on morphing into a bigger and bigger fic. Possibly slightly AU, since I discuss Harry’s scar hurting and HBP sort of did away with that, didn’t it? *shrugs* Oh, well. This was rushed, rushed, rushed to meet the extended deadline. Also, not smut at all, and why the hell not, may I ask? What is wrong with me, that I don’t write smut for a sex cheque challenge? *sigh*
> 
> Much love to my betas, gher’s muse and Quelle. *has wicked way with both*

Steam fogged his glasses to a point where he couldn’t really see anymore. He deftly plucked them off of his nose with one hand and wiped them on the bottom of his t-shirt. Then, he held them up to the light. Nodding, he placed them back on his nose and watched the coffee slowly drip into a clear coffeepot.

Harry scratched his nose and idly rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. He had gotten up early just for this. He knew how important it was to Draco that they spend some time together, even if it was only before they went to work in the morning. After all they’d been through, all they really wanted was a little time with each other. It was corny and foolish, he knew, but the idea of being able to wake up in the morning and only think of his lover made Harry feel warm inside in a way he never thought he’d feel again.

His eyes followed the coffee slowly trickle down. He never drank coffee in the mornings. One time he had tried a sip of it, and it had tasted so bad that he had immediately spit it out. Draco had laughed at him. He had asked Draco why he drank it every morning when it tasted so god-awful. Draco had smiled at him and remained silent.

He saw Dumbledore drink coffee on more than one occasion, and whenever he had seen Sirius in the mornings it had been with one hand holding a giant steaming cup and the other covering a yawn. Harry knew that most adults drank coffee to wake up, to get themselves out of that secure stupor that sleep left people in.

Harry had never needed coffee to do that. Most nights he woke up before his alarm even went off, sweating, gasping, clutching at his sheets and wide awake with a splitting headache. The dreams were hard to ignore, at best. There were nights when he fell back asleep in minutes. Then there were nights when he lay awake, blinking at the darkened ceiling, wondering if what he had seen was actually happening, if it was all real, or if was all just in his head. Overactive imagination and all that. He never knew what to make of them. Even after he found out that Voldemort was sending him dreams, he still didn’t know what to think.

The pot was almost full. Harry sighed and leaned against the countertop. Last night was just like all the rest. He thought that once he had killed Voldemort, everything would be all right. He would be able to be with Draco, people he knew and cared for would stop dying, the world would be relatively safe, and he would finally be able to get a peaceful night’s sleep. Well, he was right on most counts. If the one thing he could never have out of everything he wanted was a good night’s sleep, he’d deal with it.

His eyes bored into the coffeemaker and he fiddled with the strings on his pajama pants. Just a few more moments until he could turn it off. Draco would still be fast asleep, and he would want his usual pot of coffee before going to work. Harry knew that Draco often slept through the night, regardless of how much Harry was tossing and turning. He had woken often enough with Draco still sleeping next to him to know that his lover was a deep sleeper. Not that he minded. He would have felt incredibly guilty if he had ever woken Draco up because of his nightmares.

Harry’s shoulders fell as the last drop of coffee fell into the pot. He turned off the machine and lifted the pot carefully from its resting place before filling the empty mug on the table. He stared at the design as he poured, eyes following a Celtic knot around in a never-ending pattern. Finally, Harry replaced the pot in the coffeemaker and picked up the mug. He smiled and padded quietly into the bedroom.

Draco was lying under the covers, hair splayed across his pillow. A small glint of light splattered across his face from the slightly open curtain. His eyes were lightly closed, breathing regular, and Harry stood there for a minute, looking.

Eventually he climbed up onto the bed. His weight shifted the mattress, and Draco’s eyes opened suddenly. He met them squarely, smiling, and held out the mug.

“Hey.”

“Mm,” Draco replied, turning so that he was facing Harry. The blanket fell down around his chest, revealing more of the pale, smooth skin that Harry loved to touch. He used his free hand to run his fingertips gently over the exposed skin. Draco murmured softly and nuzzled into the pillow.

“Time to get up,” Harry sing-songed. He moved the mug of coffee back and forth in front of Draco, sloshing the liquid idly from side to side. “There’s some nice hot coffee waiting for you if you do.”

Draco glared at him through half-opened eyes. “Don’t try to…” His voice was thick with sleep and he cleared his throat and swallowed before trying again. “Don’t try to bribe me out of bed.” He clutched the pillow tightly. “I won’t be bought.”

Harry let his hand drift down in front of Draco’s face until the mug was so close Draco’s nose almost collided with it. The blonde inhaled the strong scent and sighed. He got up slowly, leaning on his elbows as he did so, and Harry carefully made sure the coffee wouldn’t spill on him.

Draco’s hands reached out for the coffee mug, fingers curling around the cup. He lifted it to his lips and sipped slowly, trying not to burn his tongue as the scalding liquid fell down his throat. He swallowed gratefully, knowing that he would soon feel that rush of adrenaline that he needed to get through his day.

Harry watched all of this with bemusement. He knew that Draco relied on coffee like an elderly man relied on his cane, yet Harry could only see it as a crutch. He knew that Draco had lived for years without drinking coffee. Harry just couldn’t understand why he decided to drink it and ended up becoming addicted. It seemed like such a waste to Harry, especially since Draco slept for eight or more hours every night.

Draco continued sipping his coffee and ran a hand through his hair. It had gotten tangled sometime during the night, and his fingers began to work through the knots and twisted strands. After almost two minutes he let his hand fall, knuckles landing on the soft sheets. After another minute he lifted his hand again, this time to trail his fingers across Harry’s face. Harry gently sucked on Draco’s thumb and forefinger when they moved across his lips. The combination of coffee and Harry’s mouth was enough to drag Draco into awareness, and he reluctantly pulled his fingers away. Harry’s head moved forward slightly, also reluctant to end the connection.

“You know, you always reach for the coffee first,” Harry said, shaking his head and smiling lopsidedly.

Draco stretched and stood up, pushing the covers off as he did so. He stretched again, forcing his arms up as far as they would go, and yawned. “Of course,” he replied as he left. “It’s only natural to reach for your loved one when you wake up.”

Harry’s smile stayed in place, eyes crinkling on the sides. “I see,” he said, nodding slowly. “So coffee is the love of your life, then?”

“Oh yes. What, you thought it wasn’t?”

“Oh, no. I knew it.”

“Good,” Draco said. He walked over to Harry and wrapped a hand around his neck. They pressed their lips together gently, briefly, before Draco pulled away. He massaged Harry’s neck and shook his head. “You’re getting spoiled, you know.”

Harry laughed. “Me? _You’re_ calling _me_ spoiled?”

Draco sighed and let his hand fall away. “Yes. You don’t even appreciate waking up next to me anymore.”

Harry’s smile faltered. “What do you mean?”

Draco shrugged. “Just that whenever I wake up you’re never there.”

Harry swallowed. “What are you talking about? I was there this morning.”

“You were there, but not _there_ ,” Draco said, running a hand through his hair again. He began to work out the knots once more as he spoke. “You weren’t lying down next to me, I mean.”

“Oh,” Harry said. He tried to think of something else to say, something that would let Draco know that he did enjoy waking up next to him without giving away the fact that it happened much earlier than the blonde thought. 

“I’d just like to wake up next to you, is all.” Draco’s voice was normal, but the words made Harry’s body tense. He opened his mouth to speak, but Draco waved a hand in the air. “It doesn’t matter. I’m going to take a shower. Got to get ready for work and all.”

Harry nodded and watched as Draco left the room.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco’s comment seemed to follow Harry all day. No matter where he went, those words echoed in his skull: shouted during a meeting with the new Aurors, whispered in his ear while writing a report, hissed in his face while giving his testimony for yet another Death Eater’s trial in front of the Wizengamot. He could barely concentrate on anything else; even Tonks noticed and commented on his inattention before misjudging the distance to Moody’s office door and slamming into it.

So Harry had the entire day to come up with a proper response. He thought about it, turning the answer over and over in his head until he was convinced it was flawless. He even said it to himself several times, under his breath, while walking the hallways or using the bathroom. It was the only response he could think of, but it was both true and somewhat important to the structure of their daily lives, so Harry knew Draco would understand and agree with him.

That was why Harry found himself waiting on his couch as soon as he got home. Logically, he knew it would be foolish to sit around and wait for Draco to get home. Being an Unspeakable meant that although Draco always went to work at the same time, he could be counted on to arrive home at least an hour later than he was supposed to every night. His schedule was a constant source of irritation to the blonde, and Draco could be counted on to complain about it at least once a night.

Three hours of nothing. Conversations drifting in through the open window, dogs barking, loud laughter. The time hand on the clock pausing for much longer than one minute on every line, shadows on the wall not moving, an alarm ringing somewhere nearby. Harry tapped his foot, hummed the song that had been the background to Draco’s voice all day, and checked his watch once every two minutes and fourteen seconds. Time slowed down, halted, and mocked him as he waited anxiously. His mind had shut down, he wasn’t even thinking anymore, only repeating the words over and over again in his head so he wouldn’t forget them. Suddenly a loud pop, Draco’s voice yelling, and Harry sat up straight, crossed his arms, and glued his eyes to the blonde.

“What the hell is wrong with those people?!” Draco shouted, wrinkling his nose and twisting his mouth in distaste. “You’d think the Ministry would hire someone with brains in the department, but no. Of course not. Only idiots are hired to work as Unspeakables, doesn’t that just make perfect sense?”

Draco knew he had opened himself to a smart-ass comeback, and he waited patiently for it. The silence that came instead confused him. He looked over at Harry only to find Harry staring directly at him, perched on the edge of the couch. His body was rigid and it seemed as if he hadn’t heard a word that had been said. Draco raised an eyebrow and walked in the opposite direction, placing his coat in the closet, his shoes next to the door, and his briefcase on top of the table in the hallway.

Draco approached the couch and realized that Harry’s eyes had been tracking his movements. They looked at each other for a few seconds. Then Draco sat down next to Harry and inhaled deeply.

“What’s wrong?”

His voice was low and devoid of inflection, yet the sound of it made Harry gasp. Somehow Draco’s voice hadn’t cut through his haze earlier, and he had forgotten Draco could say anything other than the comment that had clamored in his head all day. Draco looked at him askance, trying to match Harry’s face with the gasp and come up with something that made sense, some reason Harry was acting so oddly.

After a minute and a half of tense silence, Draco laughed lightly. “Oh God, what is it? Just tell me before I think of anything else I have to apologize for.”

Harry cleared his throat. “No, it’s… it’s not you. It’s me.” He wanted to say more, but his voice was failing him yet again. That wasn’t even what he had wanted to say, it had come out all wrong. He thought of how to continue, mind working in overdrive while the silence around him threatened to explode. He knew he had to say something else, but nothing came to mind.

“What the bloody fuck is that supposed to mean, Potter?!” Draco shattered the silence, faced Harry, and narrowed his eyes. “‘It’s not you, it’s me?’ What does _that_ mean?”

Harry swallowed. “Well, I… I just wanted you to know that it’s not your fault.” At Draco’s confused look, Harry continued hastily. “You don’t have to apologize, is what I mean. What you said before, about apologizing… You don’t have to, is all. ‘Cause it’s my fault, not yours. So you shouldn’t apologize.”

Draco stared at him. He blinked, opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. He blinked again. “Harry. What are you trying say?” His voice was dull, and Harry knew he had to get his point across somehow. Why wouldn’t the rehearsed words come to him now that he needed them?

“I just mean that I…” Harry trailed off, shoulders slumping. “You shouldn’t feel so bad.”

There was an interminable pause, and then Draco took a deep breath. “Are you breaking up with me?” His voice was quiet, but Harry felt as if he’d been punched.

“What?! No!” Harry shook his head furiously side to side. “No, of course not! No, Draco.” Harry’s eyes locked onto Draco’s. “No.”

Draco made a strangled sound. “Then what are you trying to say, you completely incoherent sod?!”

“It’s the coffee.” Harry closed his eyes as soon as the words left his mouth.

“What?” Draco’s face was the picture of confusion, and Harry couldn’t help but feel the same way.

“I mean, the reason I get up early. Coffee.”

Another silence, then Draco said, “Harry. If you do not explain yourself to me clearly, I am going to hex you.”

Harry tried to get his thoughts in order. “All right. You know this morning, when you said you wanted to wake up next to me?” Draco motioned for him to continue. “Well, I just wanted to let you know that the reason I’m not next to you when you wake up is because of you.” At Draco’s pointed stare, Harry groaned. “Okay, not _because_ of you, because of you. Because you drink coffee, and can’t wake up in the mornings without it, and if you don’t have it right when you wake up you get all cranky and whiny.”

Draco stared at Harry. “So what are you trying to tell me, exactly?”

Harry swallowed. “Er… I wake up early to make you coffee, and that’s why you don’t wake up with me?”

Draco narrowed his eyes. “Harry. You did _not_ just put me through all that to make some awful excuse to something I said hours ago?”

“Er…”

“I can’t believe…” Draco’s voice trailed off. He was silent for a moment, then his lips twitched, then he started laughing. It was a relieved kind of laughter, and Harry bit his lower lip, completely unsure what to do. “You’re bloody ridiculous,” Draco said as his laughter faded away. “Harry.”

“Yes?”

Draco placed a hand on the side of Harry’s face and smirked. “If you ever do that to me again, I’ll castrate you, understand?”

Harry leaned into Draco’s hand. “So you’re not mad?”

“No, you great git, I’m not mad.” Draco shook his head, lips curving upward against his will.

“Well… all right then.”

“So you don’t wake up next to me, so what?” Draco said, flicking a piece of hair away from his face. “We still go to sleep together, right? At least, the nights when you don’t have headaches, that is.” Draco traced Harry’s scar with his finger and Harry felt a familiar shiver run through him. “Speaking of, how are you feeling?”

Harry swallowed. He hated lying to Draco, absolutely loathed it, but there was nothing to be done about it. There was no way he was going to let Draco find out about his dreams. The blonde had enough to worry about as it was, and all Harry could do by telling him was add to his stress. Besides, it was awkward to talk about, and there was no real reason for Draco to know. Already Harry had told him that he got headaches at night before he went to bed, and that was true. Whenever Voldemort was being particularly sadistic, Harry’s scar would flare to life, exploding in his mind and wreaking havoc on his nerves. The pain was intense, continuous, and unstoppable. It reminded Harry of a lesser version of Cruciatus, except that the Unforgivable had only ever been used on him in short periods of time. His headache wouldn’t always be that bad; there were times he could act as though nothing was wrong. However, sometime after sunset, when Voldemort decided to start torturing muggles, it always came. The intensity of it seemed to depend on Voldemort’s feelings and actions, and Harry dreaded the morning after the most painful ones, when he went into the office and found out who had been attacked the night before.

“All right,” he replied, eyes downcast. “It’s still early.”

“Mm,” Draco murmured. He dropped his hand away from Harry’s face and stood up. “Well, now that that’s over with, I’m famished. What’s for dinner?”

“Er… I didn’t actually make anything.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Why not? You know I can’t cook for shite.”

“I was, er, waiting for you to get home.”

Draco blinked. “You were sitting there waiting the whole time?” Harry nodded. Draco shook his head. “Well, go on and get to it then. Can’t you at least have dinner ready when I get home? Some hero you are.”

But he was smiling, and when Harry walked past him on his way to the kitchen, Draco’s hand slid up his arm, so Harry thought things were okay.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The air itself seemed to be against him, freezing him and making his breath come out in tiny puffs as he walked down Diagon Alley. Draco’s birthday was in two days, and Harry still had no present. He could always fall back on just wrapping himself up, but that was so clichéd that he wanted to do as much as he could to avoid placing that strategic bow.

Harry’s head moved left and right as he walked, constantly wondering what he could possible buy for Draco. He passed Quality Quidditch Supplies and contemplated buying Draco a new broom. But the blonde had gotten the newest Firebolt only seven months ago, and Harry thought it would be a crime to try to replace such a great broom so early. He kept on walking, past Ollivander’s, Scribbulus Everchanging Inks, Gambol & Japes, Flourish & Blotts, Madam Malkin’s. Nothing stood out to him, and he sighed and turned around, ready to go back to Scribbulus to buy a large bow, when he noticed the worn-out sign for Slug & Jigger’s Apothecary. Harry stopped, debating. He could probably find Draco something in the Apothecary, although what he had no idea.

He entered the shop and began to look around. It was definitely creepy, and the smell was really quite foul, but it had an odd air to it that reassured Harry that he had come to the right place. Draco was still obsessed with Potions; he loved the structure and order of potions-making, loved the way that only a few items mixed together just so could turn out a spectacularly powerful potion. Harry didn’t understand it at all, but he could appreciate that Draco had a knack for it, and he knew Draco had been desperate for some new potions ingredients recently.

Harry scanned the shelves and began to pick out some of the more useful ingredients. It wasn’t the most romantic present, he knew, but then Draco never put much stock in romance and always mocked Harry when he did. Harry continued gathering ingredients that he was certain Draco used until his arms were full. Then he walked over to the counter and waited on line to pay.

When it was his turn, Harry carefully placed everything down on the counter. The man behind the counter watched him with shrewd eyes, and Harry fidgeted, eager to be done and away from him.

“I’ve never seen you in here before,” the man said, scrutinizing him.

Harry swallowed. “Er, no.”

The man eyed the pile of ingredients and looked back up at Harry. “Most of these are for advanced potions. Are you quite certain you know what you’re doing?”

Harry frowned and stood up straighter. “They’re not for me, so I don’t have to know what I’m doing.”

The man nodded, apparently satisfied with the answer, and began to ring up the ingredients. Harry’s attention wandered, and he found himself staring behind the counter at a shelf laden with bottles of various liquids. One in particular caught Harry’s eye, and he stared openly at it until the man cleared his throat.

“That comes to thirteen galleons, 10 sickles, and twenty-six knuts.” The man held out his hand expectantly.

“I’d like to get a bottle of that, too,” Harry said, pointing to the object and completely ignoring the man’s hand.

The man turned and looked. “Phoenix tears?” He looked back at Harry, who nodded in confirmation. “They’re not cheap, you know.”

Harry nodded. “Just add them in, if you could, please.”

Sighing, the man reached up and took down a bottle. He added that to the order and looked up at Harry. “Forty galleons, fifteen sickles, and twenty-two knuts, then.”

Harry knew he still needed to buy wrapping paper and a card of some sort, and his funds were running low. But this would be worth it; he was sure Draco would absolutely love the ingredients. Harry reached for his money, eagerly anticipating Draco’s reaction. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Where’ve you been, then?”

Harry turned at the voice and saw Draco leaning against the bedroom door, studying him. He blushed at the attention and quickly hid the bags behind his back.

“Draco. Hey,” Harry replied. “You’re home early.”

Draco shook his head. “I’m on lunch, actually.”

“Really?” Harry checked his watch. “It’s pretty late for lunch, isn’t it?”

Draco shrugged. “I couldn’t get off any earlier. In fact, I’m probably going to be working until late tonight.”

“Again?” Harry asked, disappointment evident in his voice.

Draco smiled a little. “Yes, well, nothing can be done about it, I suppose.”

“No, I guess not.”

“I just wanted to let you know.” Draco walked towards him, stopping when their toes touched. “So you wouldn’t worry that I was off somewhere, shagging someone else.”

Harry’s throat clenched at the thought, and he found he had difficulty replying. “Why would I think that?”

Draco laughed at Harry’s discomfort. “Because you’re a jealous prat with an overactive imagination and a hero complex.” Draco leaned forward until his lips were close enough that Harry could feel their breaths mingling together. “But don’t worry about it. I think I’ll keep you anyway.” He kissed Harry then, effectively shutting out everything else Harry might have said. Harry opened his mouth and Draco’s tongue slid in. Harry moaned at the contact and wrapped his arms around Draco.

“Draco,” he murmured when they stopped for air.

Draco leaned forward and blew gently on Harry’s ear. He leaned closer still and whispered, “I can see the bags behind you, Harry.”

Harry jumped away and stood protectively in front of his purchases. “What?” he asked, running a hand through his hair and breathing heavily. “What bags?”

Draco smirked. “Mm hm.” He turned around and walked over to the couch, where he had dropped his briefcase. “Well, I’ve got to get back. See you tonight?”

Harry nodded and watched as Draco disappeared. His shoulders sagged with relief. Now he only had to wrap the presents. He walked over to the couch and plopped down on it, resting for only a moment before he dived into the bags, anxious to get them wrapped and hidden away before Draco returned.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco apparated home right after he finished his work for the day. He had been thinking about Harry ever since lunch, about the way Harry had melted into their kiss. Throughout the day he continuously thought of Harry, and now that he was home he was quite ready to shag his lover.

All thoughts of lovemaking were gone from his mind, however, the moment he saw Harry curled up on the couch, head to his knees, hands pressed against his temples. The brunette mumbled something and seemed to close in on himself even more. Draco felt his chest constrict. He never knew what to do when Harry’s headaches got this bad. He felt useless just standing there, though, and he dropped his briefcase and coat, took off his shoes, and went to kneel in front of Harry.

He reached out and laid his hand on Harry’s arm, rubbing up and down lightly. Harry shuddered. Draco stopped the movement and made to stand up, but Harry’s hand on his wrist stopped him. Draco swallowed thickly and moved to sit down next to Harry. Harry turned towards him as soon as he was settled, leaning his head against Draco’s shoulder. Draco moved slightly so that he could wrap an arm around Harry. He tugged Harry closer to him and leaned his head on top of Harry’s.

Draco listened to Harry’s labored breathing, aware that the only thing keeping him awake was the need to help somehow. He knew that Harry could never really function when the headaches became so bad he couldn’t even talk or move around by himself, but he still didn’t really know what he could do to help. Draco felt useless, just sitting there holding Harry, but it was the only thing he could really do. He held Harry closer and concentrated on making soothing gestures with his hands on Harry’s arms and back.

There was a long period of complete silence, during which Draco thought of nothing at all. Sometimes when he came home, he found Harry cooking dinner, carefully adding ingredients in just the right amounts to make whatever it was he had decided he wanted that night. With such precision Harry should have been ace at Potions, but of course Draco himself couldn’t cook at all and showed no lack of skill at the refined art of brewing potions. The fact that he couldn’t cook at all made him scrutinize Harry’s actions. He leaned against the counter, or sat on the table, or stood behind Harry with his hands on Harry’s waist, and watched as Harry used what appeared to be the most random food substances and tossed them together to make a meal. As he watched, he would remember what Harry had told him, about the Dursleys and being forced to cook and clean for them, and he would silently seethe at the way his boyfriend was so good at things he had been forced into doing for years. Of course, he realized that he never complained when the garbage mysteriously vanished overnight, or when leftovers were waiting for him on the table, and then he felt vaguely guilty at the thought that he might be taking advantage of Harry. Sometimes the thought would keep him up late into the night, late enough to know things Harry didn’t want him to know and to wonder at their cause. But Draco wasn’t thinking of that.

Nor was he thinking of afternoons at the office when people would surreptitiously glance at him over their shoulders and spread rumors like jam. He knew they wondered about his relationship with Harry. Everyone wondered about anything even remotely related to the Great Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived to Save Us All. Occasionally one of his coworkers would be bold enough to come right out and ask, although the questions he received were always just this side of ridiculous. No, he hadn’t used Imperius on Harry. Yes, he loved Harry. No, Harry didn’t give him daily doses of veritaserum to keep him honest. Yes, he really did love Harry. No, he wasn’t selling his body to Harry so that he could give information about him to the Dark Lord. No, actually he would mind telling someone what Harry was like in bed. Bloody hell, yes, he fucking did love Harry. The questions came and went, each more original and ignorant than the last, and Draco had to give them credit for their inventiveness. Draco knew his coworkers wondered about him, about why he tended to keep to himself or annoy anyone nearby. He rather liked being a mystery to them. It made him feel elusive and alluring in a way that he hadn’t felt for years. But, once again, Draco was not thinking of that.

He wasn’t even thinking of that first night, ages ago, back when they had only just graduated. It hadn’t been his first time, but it had been Harry’s, and that knowledge had driven him to pleasure his would-be lover in a way neither would soon forget. As time passed, though, eventually the memories faded as all things do. When he thought of it now, he could only remember a soft noise Harry had made, then a louder one, a lock of hair, fingers trailing over tanned skin, deep breathing and panting and moaning and silence. The silence had lasted a while, and gradually Harry’s body had relaxed, and Draco could tell he had fallen asleep. The memory suddenly focused in his mind, sharp and clear. He had woken up; when had he fallen asleep? An arm had flung over his chest, only to be retracted and replaced once more. A dark head had been shaking, hair flinging side to side, whipping the pillows with ferocity and leaving thin dents behind. Legs kicking, body twisting, hands clenching, throat working with no sound coming out. Then a small noise, a murmur, a whimper, a plea. Draco laid still, hoping Harry would wake up soon, wondering what the dream was about, was it about him, what he could do to help. Harry bolted upright soon after, with a gasp and a shudder. Draco knew he should say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come and then he was lying there alone as Harry left the bed, left the room entirely. Thoughts and images and questions and answers danced across his mind then, and he knew when Harry got back they would have to talk. But then Harry came back, shoulders hunched, eyes downcast and shadowed, head bent, lips pressed together thinly. Draco suddenly knew he would be quiet and tell Harry in the morning.

He hadn’t told Harry the next morning, or the morning after that, or the morning after that. Even though the dreams kept coming, he stayed silent. Even after the headaches started coming, he still kept his own counsel. Even when he started drinking coffee to keep him awake, desperate to get through the day and terrified of living through another night, Draco still remained resolutely quiet. But he wasn’t thinking about that now.

He wasn’t thinking about anything. He felt Harry’s body against his, soft and hard and willing to adjust to his own body. The weight of him was like a reminder, a pressure building inside of his skull. It felt like lying, this secret-keeping. Even if the secret was about Harry, even if he knew Harry would feel guilty and be an emotional wreck after he told it, even if Harry cursed and screamed and accused him of all sorts of wrongdoings, the truth had to be told. It would come out, one way or the other. The truth had a way of doing that, no matter how long someone tried to keep it hidden.

Although that worried him, Draco wasn’t thinking about it. Much. Instead, he gathered Harry into his arms and lifted him up. Harry made a small noise, which Draco took for consent. He carried Harry into their bedroom, laid him down on their bed, and undressed him. Then Draco undressed himself and slid into bed next to his lover.

He would be twenty-three in two days, he thought idly. They had been together for over five years, and this was the only thing Draco had ever kept from Harry for any extended period of time.

He sighed and rolled over, facing the ceiling. It was time to come clean.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The mug of coffee was familiar in Harry’s hand, and he crept up to the side of the bed, intent on waking Draco up in the most soothing way possible. Harry had gone through a rough night, and although his headache was leaving him, the pain becoming just a dull thud in his scar, the memories of faces he had never seen and voices screaming were still fresh. They were always there, just behind his eyelids, waiting for him when he closed his eyes a fraction too long. That was why, when he had the choice, he would rather be standing in front of Draco when his eyes reopened. Draco was morphine, pain killer and euphoria all in one. Harry didn’t even care that he was addicted, he just wanted more.

He leaned down to whisper in Draco’s ear. “Morning.”

“Morning,” Draco replied, mumbling into his pillow. He sat up, raised a hand to his mouth to cover a yawn, grabbed the cup of coffee from Harry, and sipped slowly. “Did you hide my presents yet?”

Harry grinned. “You’re awful.”

“Like you care,” Draco said, snorting. “Look at that sappy grin. First thing in the morning, too. Good thing I’m not awake enough to care.”

“You wouldn’t care even if you were awake.”

“True.” Draco sipped his coffee and realized he had to tell Harry. Now was the time to do it. Before they got any farther into their morning routine, before Harry ran off to get ready for work, before Draco finished his coffee he had to tell Harry. There was nothing for it; it had to be done.

He cleared his throat and held the cup gently between his hands. “Harry, I…”

Harry looked at him, eyes slightly closed and a soft smile playing on his lips. “Yeah?” After a minute of silence, Draco looked down. Harry smiled at the gesture and said, “What, Draco? Don’t tell me you’ve gotten shy.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “No, it’s just I… I’m going to be late if I don’t get ready soon.” He cursed himself mentally and made a shooing motion at Harry. “Go on, then, get out the way.”

Harry moved over, giving Draco just enough room to pass. Draco placed the cup of coffee on the nightstand and got up. Harry ran his hand along Draco’s arm as he did so, causing the blonde to stop and look back. Harry smiled at him and made a shooing motion.

“Hurry up, then. Honestly, you really are hopeless without a whole cup in the morning.” Harry motioned idly to the coffee cup abandoned on the nearby table.

Draco nodded and left, closing the door firmly behind him.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco steeled himself for the fight he was sure would be coming. He had prepared himself for it all day long. He knew that Harry would be extremely upset once he realized that Draco had been keeping something this important from him for so long. There was nothing for it, though. He had to get it over with before the guilt drove him mad.

He apparated home after reminding his boss that he would be taking a vacation day tomorrow and would therefore not be showing up to work. Then the expected denials came up, and of course he had wrote it in the book next to his name, and there was no way he could come in even for only an hour, and they would just have to figure it out without him for one day. Finally he left, so irritated that he didn’t even care if he would be given all the worst assignments when he got back to work. He needed to get home. He needed to talk to Harry.

Draco arrived in his living room already in a bad mood, and finding Harry asleep in their bed did nothing to improve it. He knew that Harry needed the sleep, and even that knowledge couldn’t stop him from wanting to wake him and finally confess.

He didn’t, though. Instead, he went into the kitchen and ate some leftovers for dinner. He washed the dishes afterwards and turned off all the lights. He double-checked that the door and fireplace were locked, as well as the wards around their flat. Finally he got undressed and crawled into bed next to Harry. He rearranged the covers so that both of them were securely under them and closed his eyes.

Harry turned in his sleep, mumbling something. Draco reached out and laid his arm over Harry’s chest. Harry quieted, eventually falling still once more. Draco drifted off soon after, desperate for some sleep before Harry’s nightmare came and woke them both up.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Their routine was so habitual it had become automatic. Harry knew that, took pleasure from it. He knew Draco would be asleep, knew that the smell of coffee would wake him, knew that Draco would stretch and yawn before taking his cup gratefully. The knowledge made Harry feel safe and secure. He knew Draco in a way he had never known anyone else. He liked that, sometimes even needed it.

Harry held the cup between his hands, the ceramic warming up even as he walked from the kitchen to the bedroom. His footsteps were slow, unhurried, and when he got to their bed he stopped. He shifted the cup of coffee to one hand and placed his other on Draco’s shoulder. He drew it down lightly, smiling when Draco stirred and cracked open an eye.

”Happy birthday,” Harry said. His hand rested gently on Draco’s stomach.

A lithe hand grabbed his and entwined their fingers together. Draco sat up straighter and used his free hand to take the cup of coffee from Harry. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Harry squeezed his hand a little and leaned back against the headboard. “So, what do you want to do today?”

Draco yawned. “Sleep.” He put the mug down on the small table next to their bed and turned over until he was lying on his back.

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed. “But you’ve got work today.”

“I took a vacation day.” Draco’s eyes were fixed on the ceiling. “I just wanted some time off. And it _is_ my birthday, after all.”

“I wish you’d have told me. I would have taken off, too.”

Draco shrugged. “Thought I had.”

Harry pursed his lips. “Well, at least you’ll have the day off. What else are you going to do?”

“Hm?”

“What else? Besides sleep?”

Draco laughed. “Nothing. I’m exhausted.”

“Why?” Harry scanned his face, noticing the lines under his eyes and the drowsy look on his features. He reached over and ran a hand through Draco’s hair. “What happened? Couldn’t sleep?”

“Of course I couldn’t sleep.”

Harry continued stroking Draco’s hair. “Nightmare?”

Draco laughed shortly. “No.”

“Then what was it?”

Draco’s heart was pumping, but he belied the emotion by gesturing vaguely with his hand. “Just, you know, the usual.”

“Obviously, I don’t know,” Harry said. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be asking, would I?”

It was now or never, then. Draco took a deep breath and shrugged. “Just the way you were carrying on.”

Harry’s hand stilled. “The way I was what?”

“Carrying on.” Draco motioned extravagantly in the air. “You know, the moving around and moaning and getting up at all hours of the night.”

He paled. “Draco, I… I am so, _so_ sorry. I never meant to—”

Draco waved a hand dismissively. “I know. I don’t mind.” He snorted. “Well, I _do_ mind, of course, but there’s nothing to be done about it.”

Harry took his hand back and laid it on his lap. “I can’t believe you’ve never said anything.”

Although the remark made him wince, Draco found himself defending his actions instead of agreeing with Harry. “What should I have said? Harry, would you please stop getting nightmares so I can get a decent night’s sleep?” Draco cleared his throat and spoke in a slightly over-the-top but fairly accurate impression of Harry’s voice. “But Draco, there’s nothing I can do about it. I don’t _want_ to stay up all night and look like a zombie in the morning.”

Harry clenched his hands together. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right.”

He swallowed. “I really didn’t mean to.”

“I know.” Draco’s eyes were still focused on the ceiling. Harry wished he would look at him.

“I’m really sorry, Draco.”

“God, Harry!” Suddenly Draco’s eyes were on him, briefly, and Harry saw several emotions flicker through them before they went back to staring at the ceiling once more. “I just said it was okay, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but…” Harry couldn’t keep the uncertainty out of his voice, and he silenced himself before he could make it worse.

“But what?”

He threw his legs over the side of the bed and made to get up. “Nothing.”

Draco’s arm reached out and tightened around Harry’s wrist. “Harry…”

“I’ve got to get ready for work, Draco.”

“Don’t leave like this.” Draco pulled Harry’s arm until he fell back down on the bed. “Call out.”

“What?”

Draco turned his head so he was facing Harry. “Call out today. Just say you’re sick or something.”

Harry focused on the tangled blanket he was sitting on. “I can’t.”

“Harry.”

“They really need me to come in today.”

“I really need you to stay here today.”

Harry closed his eyes. “Draco, you should just get some sleep. I’ll only be in the way.”

“If I have to get up to get you to lay down, there will be serious consequences.”

“Dra—”

“Ah!” Draco held up a finger in front of Harry’s face. “Serious. Consequences.”

Harry sighed. “I should let you get some rest.” He looked at the wall over Draco’s shoulder. “I can’t believe you never told me.”

“That’s it.” Draco tossed the covers off and stood up. Harry’s eyes strayed over his body, silently taking in the tall, pale figure and slightly defined muscles. He walked out of the room, still nude, and Harry could only stare at the empty doorway once he had gone through it.

He heard Draco talking in the other room briefly. The voice filtered through his mind, and he closed his eyes, listening to its rhythms and textures. He could almost feel that voice touching him, caressing him slowly. His eyes drifted open well after it had stopped to find Draco staring at him from across the bed once more.

“All right there?” Draco asked, raising an eyebrow and smirking.

Harry could feel a blush coming on and knew it was useless it fight it off. He cleared his throat. “Fine.”

“Good.” Draco shifted closer to Harry. He put his elbow on the headboard and leaned his cheek against his hand. “I just contacted your office. I told them you weren’t coming in today.”

“Draco.”

“What?” He narrowed his eyes. “I had to do it. You weren’t going to. You were too busy whining on. Soon enough it would have been too late and then what would I have done? I would have had to go to the Ministry and talk to Moody, and you _know_ that look he gives me when I talk to him, like I’m corrupting his best Auror purposefully just to spite him.” Harry rolled his eyes. “What? It’s true, you know he does.”

“I know. You’re right. He does.”

“Thank you. And then I would have been in a horrible mood for the rest of the day. Do you want me in a horrible mood for the whole day?”

“No,” Harry said, shaking his head. A small smile had planted itself on his face, and he couldn’t seem to get rid of it. “Of course I don’t.”

“Of course you don’t. Exactly. So get naked and come down here, then.”

Harry sighed. “Draco, I really think—”

“Don’t.”

“But Draco—”

Draco put his hand over Harry’s mouth. “Shut up, Harry. Don’t think. Just don’t do it.”

Harry closed his eyes and nodded. He muttered something into Draco’s palm that the blonde took as agreement. Draco removed his hand and leaned forward. He kissed Harry softly, just a light touch at first. Slowly it grew more persistent, until he broke it off.

“What?” Harry asked, voice husky.

“Let’s get some sleep first,” Draco said, voice soft and reassuring. “When we wake up, we can shag the rest of the day.”

“We’ve got dinner reservations.”

Draco shrugged. “So? We can shag, go to dinner, and shag some more. Or, if you’d like, we can skip dinner and just shag instead.”

Harry laughed. “Draco, you’re insatiable.”

“It’s my birthday.” Draco raised an eyebrow at Harry. “Are you telling me I can’t do what I want on my birthday?”

Harry shook his head. “No, no, of course you can. You’re twenty-three now. Practically ancient.”

Draco narrowed his eyes. “I hate you.”

Harry smiled. “Soon you’ll be walking with a cane.”

“Harry…”

“Your skin will be all wrinkly.”

“Harry.”

“Your hair will all fa—”

Draco pounded the mattress with his fist. “Harry. If you ever want to have sex again you will not finish that sentence.”

Harry laughed. “Yes, yes. Okay, fine.”

“So. Sleep then.”

Harry nodded. “Okay.” He moved to the side of the bed and stood up. “I’ll be in the living room when you wake up.”

“Wait, wait, wait. I thought we just went over this.”

“We did.”

Draco looked at Harry, and shook his head. “Then why are you leaving?”

Harry turned around to face Draco. “Because you need sleep. And it’s your birthday, so you should get some.”

“Harry…”

Harry walked to the door. “Look, Draco, I know how much of a pain it is to never get a good night’s sleep. At least today, you should get some. Then we’ll do whatever else you want to do, okay?”

Draco was silent, and Harry took that as acquiescence. He left, shutting the door behind him.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The sunlight slanted in through the windows at an odd angle. Draco blinked a few times before submitting to a yawn. He glanced at the clock and tried to think about why he was in bed at 5:30 in the afternoon.

Ah, yes. His birthday. He had told Harry. They had argued. They had made up. Harry had left.

He had told Harry.

Draco swallowed. He didn’t know what to do. They hadn’t even talked about how he had lied to Harry for years. Well, maybe lie was a little strong, but at the very least he had knowingly let Harry think that his nightmares were a secret when they weren’t. And he had let Harry think it for five years. Five years. There had only been a few months that he had been completely open with Harry. The rest of their time together was marred by the fact that Draco had kept quiet about Harry’s nightmares. There were plenty of times he could have told Harry, yet he was obstinate about keeping silent.

Instead of being mad, though, Harry seemed much more intent on apologizing. For what, Draco was sure he didn’t know, but as he got up and made his way to the door, he knew he was about to find out.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“So you’re awake, then?” Harry asked. He was sitting on the couch, flipping channels on the telly. Draco hated the damned muggle contraption, hated that it took attention away from important conversations that should be happening right now, hated that Harry had become so attached to it that he would rather spend the day staring at it than in bed cuddling with his lover.

Draco nodded in assent and walked over to the couch. He sat down and watched the images flicker across the screen, faces smiling and people talking animatedly.

“Why do you watch that thing?” Draco asked, shaking his head.

Harry shrugged. “Dunno. I like it, I guess. It’s… different. And it passes the time.”

Draco cleared his throat. “That time could have been better used elsewhere, you know.”

Harry turned off the telly and faced Draco. “Did you get some sleep?”

“Yeah, I did.” Draco scrutinized Harry. “Did you?”

Harry chewed his lower lip and rubbed the back of his neck. “No,” he said, letting his hand drop. “But then you know that already.”

“Harry…” Draco trailed off, suddenly realizing there was nothing he could say to make this better. “I’m sorry.”

“What?” Harry’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why are you sorry?”

“Because I lied to you for _five years_.” Draco rolled his eyes. “Git,” he muttered.

“What do you mean?” The words were slow, and Draco could almost see the comprehension sliding across Harry’s face like shadow.

Draco swallowed. “I mean I’ve known about your nightmares since the first time we slept together.” He glanced up quickly to judge Harry’s reaction. It didn’t seem to be any worse than before, so he was compelled to continue. “I don’t know why I never said anything, I have no excuse. Well, I have some excuses,” he amended, “but not any good ones.”

“Okay,” Harry said, drawing the word out for longer then usual. “I still don’t understand why you didn’t tell me earlier. I mean, I’m not mad or anything,” he said quickly, shaking a hand rapidly in front of him. “It’s just that I don’t get it. Why would you want me to think that you don’t know?”

Draco shrugged. “I don’t know, Harry. I guess I thought that you’d be mad.”

“Mad?”

“Well, yeah.” Draco looked at Harry, eyes perusing his features in the hope of finding out something about how he was reacting. “I mean, you never told me yourself, so I figured you didn’t want me to know. And then—”

“Wait, wait,” Harry interrupted. “You thought I didn’t want you to know?”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Of course I thought that. Otherwise why wouldn’t you tell me?”

Harry turned crimson and licked his lips. “I didn’t tell you because I thought you’d leave me.”

“What?!” The word was exclaimed before Harry even finished his sentence, and he blinked in response to it.

“I said I thought you’d—”

“I know what you said! How could you—” Draco stopped himself and took a deep breath. He tried to calm down before speaking again. “Why would you think that?” His voice wasn’t necessarily calm, but it was quieter and somewhat inoffensive, so he was satisfied.

“I thought you wouldn’t want to be with me anymore,” Harry said, throat tightening around the words. “Why would you want to be with someone who was so needy? I mean, it’s not convenient, the dreams, and I guess I thought you’d just rather be with someone who didn’t have to worry about them.”

Draco blinked. “You thought I’d leave you because you have nightmares?”

“Er… yeah.”

Draco scowled at him. “You _do_ realize that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard?”

Harry shrugged. “I know it sounds awful, but I… I just thought, you know, that you could be with anyone, and you picked me even though I’ve got Voldemort after me, and after everything else with your family and our friends… I don’t know. I guess I just thought that you wouldn’t want to deal with something _else_ on top of all of that.”

“Harry.” Draco reached over and grabbed Harry’s hand, entwining their fingers together. “I’m with you because I _want_ to be with you. I don’t want to be with anyone else. Why would I leave you for something like that? You can’t control the nightmares, I know that. If you could, you obviously wouldn’t be having them.” Draco paused until Harry nodded. “So why would you think I’d blame you for something that isn’t at all your fault?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said, quietly. “I just thought that—”

“Ah,” Draco murmured, reaching his other hand up to cover Harry’s mouth. “There’s your problem. How many times do I have to tell you, Harry? Don’t think. It only gets you into trouble.”

Harry’s tongue darted out, licking Draco’s palm. Draco smirked.

“Like _that’s_ going to encourage me to take my hand away,” Draco said, rolling his eyes. He shifted closer to Harry, until their sides were pressed together. Then he replaced his hand with his mouth, pushing at Harry’s lips with his tongue until they opened. Harry tightened his grip on Draco’s hand and used his free hand to press on Draco’s back firmly until the blonde fell on top of Harry. Draco broke the kiss, chuckling, and Harry grinned.

“So, you’re not mad at me?” Harry asked, tracing a line down the side of Draco’s face.

“Of course not,” Draco replied. “That is, as long as you’re not mad at me. If you are, then I’ll be forced to be angry with you in return. It’s only fair, after all.”

“I’m not mad at you,” Harry said, softly.

Draco sighed dramatically and drew his hand across his forehead. “That’s a relief. I guess we’re okay then.”

“Yeah.”

“No more thinking we’re going to break up?”

“Nope. No more keeping secrets?”

“Me? Keep secrets?” Draco scoffed. “Never.”

“Hm.” Harry leaned forward and rubbed his cheek against Draco’s.

“God, Potter. Feeling cuddly, are we?” Draco rolled his eyes, but he leaned into the gesture.

“Mm hm.”

A sudden worry flared up in Draco, and he swallowed. “It’s not a headache again, is it?”

Harry looked Draco directly in the eyes. “No,” he replied, and a strange warm feeling started at the bottom of his stomach when he saw Draco’s body relax and his shoulders sag. A smile tugged at his lips and he gave in, finally leaning his lips against Draco’s ear and whispering, “I promise not to have a headache tonight.”

There was silence then, and silence for a while after that. The silence continued throughout the night, even when their hands explored each other, even when they fell against the bed, exhausted, even when Harry woke up, shaking, and Draco held onto him, rocking him until he fell back asleep.

Silence still reigned the next morning, when Harry blearily opened his eyes and found Draco lying next to him, eyes open and focused on his own. Harry reached out towards Draco and brought their bodies closer together. They lay like that for a while, content to simply lay next to each other and enjoy the sunshine that was only slightly obscured by cotton curtains.

After some time, Harry’s eyes strayed to the clock. He stretched and yawned, then smiled at Draco.

“Hey,” Draco murmured. He turned until he was lying spread out on top of Harry.

“Mm,” Harry replied. “Morning.”

“So where’s my coffee?”

Harry’s eyes got slightly wider. “I just woke up, I haven’t made it yet.” He made a move to stand up, but Draco’s body prevented him from doing so. “If you just moved, I could go do it.”

Draco arranged himself so that he was more comfortable on top of Harry. “Nope. Not going anywhere.”

Whether he was talking about Harry or himself didn’t matter, because the next moment their lips met and Harry couldn’t be bothered to care. He did care, however, when Draco pulled away.

“I’d love to stay here all day, but you know. Work and all.” Draco grimaced and rolled off of Harry. He sat up and ran a hand through his hair.

“Well, I’ll go make you coffee then,” Harry said. He imitated Draco’s actions, sitting up and running a hand through his hair.

“Don’t bother,” Draco said. “If I want some I can make it myself.”

“Draco,” Harry said, turning around to look at the blonde. “You leave for work an hour earlier than I do.”

Draco shrugged. “So what? Besides, I think I’m quitting.”

Harry’s eyebrows rose. “You are?”

Draco nodded. “Yeah.” He leaned across the bed and drew Harry into another kiss, only to pull away and smirk as Harry leaned forward to continue. “I’ve got you to wake me up in the mornings now.”

Harry swallowed. “Yeah. I guess you do.”

“You never gave me my presents, you know,” Draco said, idly staring at Harry’s face.

Harry’s mouth fell open. “Oh God, Draco, I’m sorry, I just totally forgot with everything else that—”

“It’s okay, Harry. A day late will be fine.”

“You sure?”

“Would I say it’s fine if it wasn’t?”

Harry shook his head and bit his lower lip. “All right then.” They laid together for a few more minutes before Harry threw off his covers and got up. “I’ll be right back.” He ran out of the room and Draco watched him go, torn between amusement and curiosity. His eyes stayed on the door until Harry came back, carrying several bags with him.

Draco sat straight up and grinned. “Presents.” He waited patiently while Harry took out all of the wrapped boxes and spread them out on the bed. “I love presents.”

“I know you do, you spoilt git,” Harry muttered affectionately. Draco raised an eyebrow. “Go on, then. I know you’re dying to.”

Draco picked up the present nearest him and carefully inspected it. Harry bit his lower lip as Draco opened it slowly, taking his time by unwrapping each corner one by one.

“Oh for God’s sake,” Harry muttered. Draco shot him a glare and Harry held up his hands. “Go on. I didn’t say anything.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “That’s right. You wouldn’t destroy my carefully built sense of anticipation, now would you?”

Harry shook his head. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good,” Draco said, turning back to his present. He finally removed all of the wrapping paper and unveiled the item. “Oh good. Asphodel. And here I was, afraid you’d gotten me some uselessly romantic trinket again.”

Harry blushed. “I do _not_ get you uselessly romantic trinkets.” Draco raised an eyebrow. “Okay, fine, maybe I do. But so what? It’s nice every now and again.”

Draco smirked. “All right, all right. Don’t get all upset now.” He leaned over and kissed Harry on the cheek. “Thanks, Harry.”

“You’re welcome,” Harry said. He gestured to the other presents. “Well, get on with it. You’ve got to leave for work soon.”

“I can be a little late,” Draco said. He continued unwrapping his presents, slowly becoming more and more delighted at what Harry had picked out for him.

Harry watched his reactions and felt satisfied that he had finally gotten Draco things he wouldn’t complain about later. There was one present, though, that Harry hid behind his back, careful not to break or crush it. Once Draco had finished opening all of his presents, he leaned forward to kiss Harry. Harry brought out the last present and held it out in front of him. Draco stopped half-way and plucked it out of Harry’s hands.

“Another one?” he asked, tilting his head slightly to one side.

Harry shrugged. “I just couldn’t resist.”

“I’m sure,” Draco drawled. He opened it exactly the same as the others, intent on extending the moment for as long as possible.

Harry held his breath and tried not to fidget. He almost succeeded. The wrapping paper fell away and there was the bottle that had caught his attention in the store. Harry waited for Draco to say something. After just over a minute, Harry swallowed. “Well? Do you like it?”

“Like it?” Draco said, exhaling as he spoke. “Harry, these are phoenix tears.” Harry nodded. “ _Phoenix tears_.”

“I know, Draco. I bought them, remember?”

Draco shook his head. “Harry… I can’t… you don’t just… these are _phoenix tears_!”

Harry laughed. “So you like—”

Harry was cut off by Draco jumping on top of him. The blonde kissed him roughly, hands running along Harry’s sides, chest, and shoulders. Harry eagerly pushed his hands into Draco’s hair, returning the kiss with fervor.

“Yes, of course I like it, you prat,” Draco said. He looked at Harry and smirked. “I’m getting home early tonight to show you my appreciation properly.”

Harry grinned. “I’ll look forward to it, then.”

“You do that.” Draco glanced back to check the time and wrinkled his nose. He rolled off of Harry and stood up. “I’ve got to shower.”

Harry nodded. “Okay.”

Draco walked to the door and opened it. He stood there for a minute, framed by the doorway, and said, “There’s room for two, you know.” He walked away, leaving the door swinging open.

Harry smiled. He grabbed a towel from his drawer and walked through the open doorway, closing it resolutely behind him.

 

_FIN._


End file.
